


Doting on Spiders

by gaysailoreventonly, Sailor Seraph (gaysailoreventonly)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Sex, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Past Abuse, Reader is not described, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29643924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysailoreventonly/pseuds/gaysailoreventonly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysailoreventonly/pseuds/Sailor%20Seraph
Summary: You have been hired to assassinate a Phantom Troupe member, a job even the most skilled would decline. What happens when she is more clever and... breathtaking than you expected?
Relationships: Pakunoda (Hunter X Hunter)/Reader
Kudos: 6





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I might update the first chapter with more. It's been a while since I've written so don't be harsh!

“We already tried the Zoldycks, but they refused.”

“They refused?” Now I was interested.The client was on the other side of the door, an old rotten, thing that I could easily break if I wanted to, but it was part of the deal for me not to.

“Yes, this is a highly dangerous target-“

“There is 15 billion jennys on the table, so I would think so.”

“I would like to remind you before I give you this folder, that my organization is tied to some big names, and if you leak this information, we will find you.”

“Doubt it, just slid the folder over, will you?” The client coughed into their fist quietly before shuffling forward. I heard the thud of their knee touch the floor as they knelt before the door.

“The target is the ninth member of the phantom troupe. She is a nen user by the name of Pakunoda. Do you accept the offer or not?” 

“Yes.” An unmarked manila folder slid beneath the slit of the door.

“Do you know anything about her nen ability?” I inquired. Silence. The stranger gets off the floor, and I hear footsteps leading away. 

“Whatever, I can get it done.”

I open the folder, and there is barely anything there. Just a name, her occupation, her nen type and-

Shit. That is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.


	2. Mask On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise longer chapters soon. I'm warming up! 
> 
> No face, no case.

**A week before.**

I took several stops, a few disorienting car rides and alleyway walks back to the base, an old trailer home with running water and light we trusted no one would look into for a while. I was never sure how Digit knew these ‘hideouts’ would work out, they just did. 

The cracking purple front of the poorly painted trailer with white borders and a huge mass of flamingo figurines greeted me on my last car ride. The air is eerily silent and still, heavy with humidity. Silently, I walk up to the door and unlock it. 

The house is dark. I turn on the lights, and there Digit is, caterpillar-ed in blankets on the sagging couch, soft clicks sounding out from where his hands meet their laptop. Only the sad mop of black curls peek out of their hiding spot. They shift slightly, burrowing their skinny face out, like a little bug. 

“How long do you think this one will take?” Digit’s black lackluster eyes stared up at me from beyond a computer screen, fingertips still clicking against a keyboard. I never told them about the meeting today, so Moira, our big-mouthed but trusted leader, must’ve been gossiping earlier. Figures.

“A few weeks.” I sighed, already feeling their judgment. A pregnant pause, they lean forward, and the light from the screen illuminates their dark circles that stand out on their tan skin. 

“That’s long for you.” This meant I had some convincing to do.

“Let’s just say, it’s a big job,” I said, staring back with as much force as I could. If they refused, I wouldn’t be able to proceed, after all. 

“How much for me?” 

“You always get twenty-five percent.”

“How much?”

“Four billion.” They smiled, almost innocently, clapping their hands in front of them. 

“Hand over that ugly mug, partner.” 

Laptop away, I sat before them on the floor, face angled up as they grasped it firmly between their hands. Involuntarily, I leaned into the warm touch. They giggled but didn’t comment. 

“You already know how it is- it’ll sting a bit at first, and you may experience some numbness in the cheeks, along the brow bone and jaw, but that shouldn’t impede your ability to talk or move your face…” They whispered the familiar terms, sweeping their dry fingers over each plain of bone on my face as if they were memorizing the canvas before it disappears. 

“You have my favorite face, you know…” 

“Literally, shut the fuck up,” I grumbled. They giggle, again. I fight the urge to punch them in the face.

“This mask will stay on for a week and a half.” My eyes opened in surprise, and my mouth twisted in a complaint, but Digit already had their thumbs over my mouth, silencing me. 

“I can’t do more than that for now. Besides, you’re good, you’ll be able to do it before then.” I decide not to push my luck and close my eyes. The praise sat high on my chest, I pretended to be neutral to it. 

One clawed hand at the top of my cranium, and one settled beneath my jaw, grappling my face forward. Fingers made of nen energy poke in. Suddenly, all I can see is red and I feel the intense but calming prickles of needles along my face, where the mask will blend with my skin. Pressure and heat sears behind my cranium. It doesn’t hurt, but I feel both asleep and tense like I’ve been dunked in a vat of ice water and can’t feel a thing. It’s a strange feeling; one that felt like death when I first experienced it. 

“Then release.”

My eyes open, and I see Digit watching the transformation still somewhat fascinated, surrounded by the glow of their powerful nen. Their hands are still on my face, and they put them back on my cheeks, pulling the new fat out as a grandma might do to her child.

“Perfect.” 

I get up, facing the living room mirror. 

It’s a perfectly neutral, but pretty face. Plain, but still more beautiful than I consider myself. No blight imperfections, acne, discoloration, or scars from the years; unbroken glass skin. I look for the slight differences, note them and look away. It’s better not to get attached to Digit’s masks. 

_“You like it don’t you?” Digit asked, wrapping their arms over my shoulders as I gawked at myself in the mirror; this was a gorgeous mask, the first one he made for me, and I couldn’t believe my eyes._

_“Don’t like it too much, or you’ll have to keep me around forever.” They giggled, pushing strands of hair out of my shocked face._

“Thank you.” I turn to an already exhausted Digit who waves a peace sign at me in acknowledgment, already falling asleep. They always had to give up a huge amount of nen for masks that last this long. 

“I’ll come back with a protein shake,” I promise, stealing our shared car keys off their desk and leaving through the backdoor of the base. Unfortunately, I still needed a wig.


	3. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't going the way I want them to...

**The day we met.**

Pakunoda was easy enough to track. Digit found her residence in the suburbs of York New state, just close enough to the city it was a drive away but far away the houses were practically mini-mansions. It was an odd place for tourists, so I pretended to be ‘visiting family.’ A practical sunhat, white linen shirt, and some baggy beige pants practically sold the story, I almost looked like a regular.   
I was at the farmers’ market, a location on her weekly schedule. It was surprising to think a Genei Ryodan member frequents a location as benign as that, but most underground members do have normal lives outside of their jobs. Or they’re supposed to.  
I don’t. Rows of colorful fruit and veggies in wooden crates stare at me almost mockingly. I wonder when the last time I had a real meal that wasn’t microwaved was. I look up at the crowd of people weaving through the stalls. So many families, clothes colored of easter and hair knit with daises. Children clinging to skirts and palms, swaying brilliantly. I feel a pang of envy and guilt hit me. I wish I had something like that, but it wasn't made for me. Out of my field of vision, a woman greets me, and I say something back but I’m too disoriented to know what. I gather back my focus and ignore them. I need to find her before this sudden wave of desperation rolls over. I can use it.

I’m following the lines of people blindly, sometimes stopping so I don’t stick out. During one of my pauses, where I’m forcibly handed some blueberry jam and shown to a platter of crackers, I see something out of the corner of my eye. A sigh of relief escapes me.  
Among the bland upper middle class of the suburbs, I spot a blonde bob and an aquiline nose that could only belong to one woman, eyeing a basket of tomatoes idly.   
There she was. Act casual, watch her, make some observations, maybe strike up a conversation and then dip-  
“Hello. I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here.” How did she get from across the trail to behind me in a second? I turn to her, and she’s standing there, a pleasant smile on her face, a hand cupping her chin as she looks me up and down. Heat crawls up to the mask, and terror sinks in my stomach. Shit, can I blush in this face? I hope not. God, she just had to talk to me now.  
“Oh! Um, I’m visiting, I’m not from here.” She hums appeasably, looking at the jam I was holding in my hands and then to the bakery front we were in front of.   
“We don’t get a lot of visitors around here,” Which is probably why a criminal is hiding within it, I inferred. I giggle nervously in response, not sure if it's the correct way to respond, “It’s nice seeing a pretty thing such as yourself around. It can get very… bland.”   
She’s hitting on me. I wasn’t planning on that.   
“Oh, thank you. You’re very beautiful yourself.” Oh, I didn’t mean to say that. I mean, I did, but I didn’t. I tend to be more together during these situations.   
She hummed, her eyes sparkling with consideration.  
“Baker! Two apricot croissants please,” She turns to me, her eyes blinking with the effort of smiling brightly, “I do hope you’re not allergic.”  
“No, but you don’t have to!” Before I could reject her, she had already stuffed a brown bag with the pastry in my hand.  
“Call me whenever, darling.” She jogged off, disappearing before I could tell her I wasn’t interested, although I really…  
I peaked inside, and there was a slip of paper with a phone number scrawled there, along with a freshly baked croissant. I could pass out from my nerves.   
She caught me off guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's kind of lackluster, but next chapter we're getting into the meaty shit.


End file.
